


On Building a Home

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: In which Frumpkin is Caleb's eyes and heart, and helps give insight on how to make each member of the Nein happy within  Widogast's Nascent Nein-Sided Tower.
Relationships: Frumpkin & Caleb Widogast, Frumpkin & The Mighty Nein, The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42
Collections: Fic In A Box





	On Building a Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EternalEclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalEclipse/gifts).



It was a cold night. A quiet night. But Frumpkin liked cold, quiet nights well enough. They were good for cuddling, and Caleb generally needed a good cuddle. They were on watch together; something that Caleb had become much more vigilant about after Jester and Fjord were kidnapped. Yasha too, probably, though there was always a niggling thought that she might have just run away again.

Caleb liked the night watches. It gave him time to think. Even better, it gave him time to clear his head. Frumpkin had watched him stare straight into the fire on so many nights, watched worry and horror and contemplation going through his eyes as he thought back on his friends, on his parents, on the past day's events, and a thousand other things. Caleb also sometimes used the time to study; figuring out new spells, or going over old ones, trying to figure out how to be better, how to protect his friends and prevent the bad things he'd witnessed first- and second-hand from ever happening again.

Every now and again he sent Frumpkin out to explore as a cat or a bat or an owl, but most of the time they stayed together, cuddled close for warmth and companionship.

It was nice having someone to pet his fur, just as it was nice, Frumpkin was sure, to have someone who would act as a sounding board; who would listen to Caleb's nonstop trails of thought as he tried to work himself through whatever had taken up a point of obsession in his mind.

Tonight, however, seemed to be for quiet thinking. Caleb would look around every now and again, and send Frumpkin on occasional loops just beyond the firelight's glow, but otherwise Caleb seemed content to absently pet his fur as they basked in the comfortable warmth.

Still, something was clearly taking up Caleb's thoughts, so Frumpkin wasn't at all surprised when Caleb broke the silence.

"I have an idea," he said, his voice soft. "I want to make a home for us, for _all_ of us, so we cannot be so easily separated. So we have protection and comfort both. 

"And to that end, I want to make it truly feel like a home, and that will mean doing different things in each room so that it is properly comfortable for everyone. But we both know that I cannot gather all the information I need for that alone. I will second guess myself too much, and make a thousand bad choices, or else ruin the surprise. So will you help me figure it all out?"

Frumpkin chirped, and butted his head against Caleb's hand in agreement. A sure and definite yes. He was Caleb's familiar after all, and loved these people just as much as his master did.

He'd do anything that Caleb needed to make him smile, and help make this home idea of his a wonderful success.

* * *

At first Frumpkin had been afraid that Nott was going to eat him. And, to be fair, he'd been right: in the time since, Nott had eaten him twice, and used him for target practice a few more times, but only when his body could be spared for a few hours. So it really wasn't that bad.

On the whole, Nott was very nice for a goblin. Kind, thoughtful, and braver than she thought herself, despite the constant jokes about her epithet. There was, however, something that had always seemed off about her; a scent that didn't quite sit right. She didn't smell the same as the other goblins they encountered, and he wasn't sure if it was simply a case of diet (fey cat or otherwise). 

But those weren't the only things that Frumpkin had noticed, even long before Caleb had asked for his insight. Even before Nott and Caleb had met the rest of the Nein.

It wasn’t hard to miss how Nott had to scramble her way into chairs in human cities, the spaces often meant for taller legs and longer torsos. It wasn’t hard to tell how her eyes gleamed around shiny things, and how much joy she derived from pickpocketing something with a sparkle that caught her eye, or that she thought would be useful.

Nott’s space would need to be scaled down, and to be full of trinkets both out in the open and hidden away for her to discover. That would make her very happy indeed.

* * *

Caduceus had only been around for a short period of time, but already he fit in so well. And maybe he didn't quite fill the hole in everyone's hearts that Mollymauk's death had left, but his presence was a quiet and welcome balm nonetheless. The size of his heart was disproportionately large compared to the size of his body, which was quite a feat given his firbolg-typical bulk, and yet he knew how to be delicate as well; making teas with deft ease, tending plants, and caring for everything that grew from or would return to the earth. 

Caduceus had become a very easy companion in no time at all, knowing almost immediately how to treat Frumpkin with the respect and reverence he deserved. Frumpkin always felt safe in Caduceus' large, gentle hands, and Caduceus probably was the best at giving scritches out of anyone. (Except Caleb, of course.)

If Nott required furniture that was scaled down, then certainly Caduceus would need the opposite: chairs and tables, tubs and beds sized up to accommodate his large frame. It was harder for him than Nott in inns; perhaps Nott needed some help getting into some of the less accommodating beds, but the way that Caduceus sometimes had to bend to fit in them couldn't have been comfortable to anyone not born with a cat's spine, and firbolgs were generally better known for their power than for their flexibility.

Any firbolg would appreciate a touch of nature, but Frumpkin could tell that with Caduceus, it needed to have a bit of decay just as much as it needed a bit of life. The whole cycle of death, nourishment, and new life would be appreciated, rather than showcasing beauty that was always in bloom.

And of course, there would need to be hot water, and things for making tea. But would it need to be that special blend, or would any kind do? Frumpkin would let Caleb figure that detail out on his own.

* * *

Yasha didn't know what to do with herself now that she was back, and now that she was in her own mind. She was always hesitant to touch Frumpkin, just as she was still regaining her footing within the group.

Frumpkin wasn't surprised by this. If anything, he thought it appropriate. Yasha had always been running off after all, and he worried that she'd run off again and make his Caleb needlessly fret or mourn. So Frumpkin had reason to be a little more tense with her than with the others, more wary at first contact. But he couldn't deny that Yasha definitely had a gentle side, and lots of good within her.

Yasha mourned, just like Caleb did. She blamed herself for her wife's death almost as much as Caleb did his parents'. But whereas there was very little comfort to be found in Caleb's mourning, the deaths too tied with trauma, Yasha found a way forward through flowers. Occasionally there were other things as well—it seemed there were a thousand different objects pressed into Yasha's book, and some of them were fascinating to behold—but most were flowers. She reveled in them, and found healing in a way that gave Frumpkin hope. Perhaps one day Caleb would find that healing, too.

Her room would need flowers. Things that reminded her of that love, of that comfort and hope. And perhaps they need not all be fresh, but those lacking freshness should still be preserved in the height of bloom. A sign of everlasting beauty, even in death.

And one day, they'd be able to add a reminder of Caleb's parents to his room, and it wouldn't fill him with fear and guilt and dread.

* * *

"Would you mind if I were to staff our tower with creatures like you?" Caleb asked.

Frumpkin chirped happily. That sounded _amazing._

* * *

Cats were considered lucky aboard ships.

That was probably the only reason why Fjord, the great Captain Tusktooth himself, had agreed to have him onboard, no matter how reluctantly. 

It certainly beat being temporarily banished for the length of each sea voyage, or to have to spend his time stuck in the form of a seagull or octopus. Plus, he had free reign of the place if Caleb had no specific need for him, which was an especially nice treat.

Fjord generally didn’t like Frumpkin getting too close; his fey nature doing nothing to stem the horrible allergies the half-orc was burdened with, but Frumpkin still liked him despite that. And Fjord couldn’t stop Frumpkin from sneaking into his quarters by day or by night, so long as he stepped quietly and tried to keep any shedding to a minimum.

But those limitations were fine. After all, for all Fjord's reluctancy and issues with letting a cat get too close, Frumpkin still liked him.

The man looked so much more at home on sea than he ever had on land. Even given his history with Uk’otoa, and how he'd almost had his life taken by the sea on more than one occasion. No, this is where Fjord was meant to live, and, most probably, this is where he was meant to die.

His room needed to reflect that, needed to have a sense of the ocean about it. If they could recreate the look of a ship's hull, that would be good. If they could get the smell of sea air, even better. 

With any luck, that would be enough to keep Fjord relaxed and happy, even as he was surrounded by cats. If not, they'd just have to try and convince him that his room was _really_ lucky.

* * *

Caleb had an idea for Beauregard's bed. Frumpkin wasn't entirely sure that he understood it, but Caleb seemed certain that Beau would love it, and thus Frumpkin was not going to interfere.

As it was, Beauregard was probably the one that Caleb needed Frumpkin's help with the least; the two having bonded over their status as children of the Empire and their love of research. Still, Frumpkin could give estimates of how much paper Beauregard might need (more; always more) and how much space to dedicate to study and how much to sparring within her personal room.

That second question was much harder, taking hours of observing Beau to see how much space she needed when she trained, and how much could be diverted to host a luxurious desk. An earlier thought was to involve bookshelves, but after seeing what a good hard hit to a wall could do, any thought of bookshelves was abandoned. No, the library down below would be plenty for that. And the desk would be fine for her study space, leaving the rest of the room open for her to practice in.

Decked in the blues that Beauregard preferred, she was sure to love it.

* * *

Jester was one of Caleb’s favourite people. She was easily one of the nicest, kindest people he’d ever met, even if she was a dedicated trickster. (Or perhaps because of it; perhaps that was what filled her with so much everlasting joy.)

Jester was one of Frumpkin’s favourite people, too. She was kind and happy, and gave good pets, and always offered Frumpkin bits of food (including some that he probably shouldn’t be eating if he wasn’t a fey creature) and drew amazing portraits of Frumpkin in his prime.

Caleb wanted to impress Jester, and Frumpkin wanted to as well, and so they had set out to make her room perfectly. There had to be spaces for animals, and spaces for pastries. There had to be tricks that seemed like magic, and a room just for making art. There had to be hints of Nicodranis, and homages to The Traveller, and everything needed to be rich and high quality, full of frills and ruffles and soft, perfect textures.

Frumpkin had spent countless hours cuddling with her, listening as she told him stories while she drew and painted pictures of the day’s events, and what she wanted to see in the future, and many, many dicks. And he'd often lend Caleb his eyes and ears, letting the wizard understand the kinds of things she valued, the kinds of things she might want included.

Together, over months of planning, they made her room a masterpiece.

And then, they saw her room, and it was an “oh” moment, and Frumpkin spent the night silently prowling to help Caleb gain the notes he needed to recreate and update it to make the space even more homey for their beloved tiefling.

* * *

“I was thinking of not including stairs,” Caleb mused. “My friends, they like having a bit of magic, and I've devised a way for us to go up or down with featherfall. Would you like that too?”

Frumpkin let out a growl. Falling, while definitely possible for cats, was not his favourite form of transportation.

“Fair, fair,” Caleb replied. “I’ll build you a roadway, or rather, a rampway, then.”

* * *

Nott wasn’t Nott anymore. Nott was Veth. And Veth had a husband and son, and a million things that made so much about Nott make sense in retrospect. She also seemed far less likely to want to eat Frumpkin in this form; a fact that he greatly appreciated.

It had been a wonder, seeing the transformation occur, even if the shattered bathtub had practically cost him a life. Seeing Nott become Veth was something that none of the Nein would ever forget and Frumpkin counted himself proud to be within that number.

However, understanding Veth also meant changing a lot of things about her room.

The scale could stay; she was still the same size that she had always been. But now there needed to be more chairs, and a trundle bed that could be kept with the four-poster. And they'd also need room full of toys and a bed so that Luc had his own space, full of wonder and magic, but also full of targets so the boy could continue learning to protect himself in a safe environment. 

Caleb insisted on adding plush toys of all of Frumpkin’s forms. Frumpkin had fun sniffing at all of them and batting to ensure that Caleb had made each of them strong enough to last. The octopus had to be remade three times as Caleb figured out how to create plush limbs strong enough to withstand tough love.

There needed to be space for Yeza’s experiments, and for Nott to practice magic. There needed to be room for a whole family to live and breathe and thrive.

And perhaps that wasn’t something that Caleb was used to making, but it made Frumpkin proud to see him trying to put something together so well for something he wished that he still had.

* * *

or all that Caleb loved his friends, he hated himself just as much. And never was that as clear as in the places he chose to maintain within the eighth floor’s nine rooms. Here was his childhood home, whole but with the scent of smoke as a reminder in the air. There was where he received residuum into his arms, the room seeming like nothing so much as a torture chamber. Here was the sanitarium where he spent a decade of his life, there was the jail where they first met Nott.

Frumpkin gave low, sorrowful mewls whenever Caleb returned to work on these, but the man insisted. He would not be stopped. And so, Frumpkin merely stayed at his side, and rubbed against his legs, and licked his hands, and provided what little comfort he could.

All rooms could be changed on a whim, after all. Perhaps, one day, they could change these to reflect happier memories, too.

* * *

As for Frumpkin, he didn’t have one particular room. Instead, he had places within almost all of them: A place in the library by the fireplace. A warm spot on the bed warmed by an artificial sunbeam in Caleb's otherwise-unadorned bedroom. A large, soft cushion in the CPU where all the fey cats could cuddle together when not doing their other tasks. Nooks and crannies in the walls where the tunnels disappeared into, perfect for hiding and resting. Small cat beds in every bedroom, where he or the other cats could rest when invited. 

The entire house was a cat’s paradise, and one that he was happy to call home. Hopefully, all of the Nein would be just as happy too, once they saw the inside.

* * *

Caleb was crying when he summoned Frumpkin in their fancy room in the Lavish Chateau. Frumpkin was picked up almost as soon as he appeared, cuddled to Caleb's chest as he purred a song of hope and comfort to cheer his human up.

"I… I told them," Caleb murmured, his voice shaky and muffled as he buried his head in Frumpkin's soft fur. “I told them about my past. Not-not everything, but enough that they knew. They could fill in the details. They did not care. Not about—they cared that I’d been through, that no-one should have to go through what I did. But they do not think me a monster. They did not send me away.

"I thought…" he took in another shaky breath, and another sob rattled out. "I thought they might hate me, that they might wish me dead if they knew, but they…."

Oh, so these were _happy_ tears. Frumpkin adjusted his song gently… a song of love and support, to share in his relief and comfort his lingering fears. And as Caleb calmed down, Frumpkin could feel a different sort of resolve settling over him.

"I would like to show them the tower," he said. "Tomorrow. After everything's done. If they do not decide that they hate me overnight, if they do not hate me after we meet with Trent Ikithon, then I think I am ready."

Frumpkin butted his head against Caleb's and gave his approval. He'd been sitting on this for long enough. Everyone was so kind and supportive to his Caleb. He deserved this. They all did.

* * *

Frumpkin could not remember a time that Caleb had been so excited as when he prepared the old, bloody wardrobe to serve as the host for his spell.

This was where the wand went. That was where we put the stained glass and granite. The cat went there. And this was how to draw the shapes that brought it all together.

Together, they had built this; a testament to all their friends. The amber light started glowing, and Frumpkin watched excitedly as the Mighty Nein entered into the beautiful, nine-sided tower.

And Frumpkin mewled an echo to Caleb’s own greeting: “Welcome home.”


End file.
